


Triptych

by monanotlisa



Category: Fringe
Genre: Amber!verse, Blueverse Meets Redverse, Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, Let's Get Astrid Laid, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-27
Updated: 2011-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/pseuds/monanotlisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Watch out, Astrid, your long-ago Bible School afternoons are showing. Then again, maybe not really.</i></p><p>Set after the events of <i>Fringe</i> 4x04 "Subject 9".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Triptych

The parable of the prodigal son obviously assumed a slightly more positive view on human character: more unconditional acceptance and a willingness to forgo the fact life changes and people do too...so that there is no space left for the one returning.

Astrid is willing to concede it probably helps if said son doesn't come from another reality just a jump to the left.

She doesn't so much doubt this Peter Bishop is saying the truth; even if he were the best con-man in all the worlds out there -- especially then -- he'd come up with a better story. But all credibility aside, who appreciates being told their life is just the result of the manipulations of an inter-dimensional machine?

"We really shouldn't have." Lincoln sounds distinctly unhappy, and when Astrid glances sideways over at his lab-table-turned-desk, he's not looking at the stack of files in front of him but staring out of the basement windows at a sliver of blue sky. "All those interviews and tests, Olivia and Walter and Broyles dealing with this guy 24/7? A waste of time." He catches her gaze, gives her a small, terse smile. "And possibly space too. Even if his tale is true, we should be out there, doing our work."

His eyes behind those black-rimmed glasses are fierce, beseeching. Astrid clicks her National Cipher Challenge window closed and takes the few steps required to stand right next to him, close enough to catch the warmth of his body. Lincoln doesn't move away. She considers it for half a heartbeat -- he is not a touchy-feely person -- but then does put a gentle hand on his arm, just above his wrist. "We will catch up with the case-work. Plus, he's definitely been the biggest fringe event in the last two weeks."

Astrid remembers brushing by him on his second day to hand Walter a bag of red liquorice. Lincoln jumped at that barely-there touch, skittish like a cat. Now he only blinks at her hand, his face softening. When he turns his head to look her in the eye, she again reconsiders her preference for brown eyes. There's nothing chilly in Lincoln's gaze.

The _clang_ of the door startles them both. Astrid draws back, Lincoln turns around, one hand unthinkingly sliding to his holster.

"Knew I'd find you here." Cheerful voice, and very familiar to both of them. The other Lincoln enters the lab with the usual spring to his step. "Hello, Astrid! And you. Well, me."

Her Lincoln doesn't seem to find that especially amusing, but Astrid feels some courtesy is in order. "Hello, Agent Lee."

As ever, Lee exudes an air of confidence that's nevertheless not brash; he has the same warmth to him that she only just discovered in her Lincoln. Team leader on the other side, and the youngest ever. Or at least he told her so two weeks ago when they first met. Since then, he's taken a curious liking to her, going out of his way to greet her, say good-bye, and find time for a chat in-between. Maybe he's close with his own Astrid, although from everything she's gleaned, that's not a probable option, at all.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't flattered. Where her Lincoln -- presumptuous as that sounds in her head -- is cute, this one is _hot_ , leather and hair gel and an easy-going grin. The rogue look (belying that he is, in fact, The Man) works well for him. Then again, Astrid is sure pretty much everything would work for him, up to and including a burlap sack. Or nothing at all. Which is not a helpful train of thought.

Lincoln next to her stiffens, and when he fully turns towards Lee, his stance isn't welcoming at all. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be body-guarding your Secretary of Defence?"

"Liv's on that." Lee lets the dig slide, shoulders loose and facial expression friendly as they come. "She's pretty interested in the whole matter anyway, given the guy's story."

No wonder, Astrid thinks. If someone wandered into your universe only to talk at length about some supposed _mata hari_ maneuvers of yours, wouldn't you want to know?

"And your FBI escort?" Pointedly; Lincoln even makes sure to thoughtfully pat the suit pocket that holds his cell phone.

"Lying in a ditch somewhere by the motorway, of course." Lincoln smirks, for real now. "Relax, Clark; Agent Jessup was with me until now."

Astrid feels herself frown just a little. "And now?" She doesn't want to be paranoid; she just doesn't want to be taken off-guard either.

Lee looks at her, and his demeanour changes; he stands a little straighter all of a sudden, and his voice is firmer. "Your Agent Broyles called her over to your Federal Building to look into a case involving a certain senator. She dropped me off and drove away, making me promise I'd immediately report to you. Which I'm hereby doing, by the way. Agent Farnsworth, I'm at your service and would have a few discussion points, until 2200 when we're to meet up again at the Bridge."

Lincoln whips his cell out before either of them can say as much as _verification_ , but whatever Broyles tells him over the phone, it doesn't deviate from Lee's story. His brief nod is answer enough.

Astrid smiles maybe a little too brightly at both of them, making sure to allocate exactly the same time-span to each Lincoln Lee. "So, discussion over coffee? There's an Austrian café around the corner that makes great _mélanges_?"

::

It wasn't officially required -- Lincoln hadn't been explicitly mentioned as the impromptu FBI escort for one Agent Lee -- but personally necessary for Lincoln to join Astrid and Lee.

After three hours of tossing questions and answers and yet more questions around, with plenty of notes made on both sides, they've relaxed in their seats in the midst of red and white pseudo-European perkiness so unlike the darkly lit, gloriously moody coffee houses Astrid recalls from her Vienna visit.

She wasn't pretending earlier; the coffee is great here. Taking another sip of her second _Einspänner_ , she savours its warmth. It's the only one around, after all.

"You know, self-loathing is pretty unhealthy." Lee lifts an eyebrow at her Lincoln.

"It's not self-loathing if it's in a different universe." Lincoln says. His eyes flash, magnified behind their glasses, and perhaps there's something to Lee's earlier nickname because Astrid half-expects him to rip open his dress shirt. "Besides, it's not your person _per se_. It's your behaviour."

Lee laughs. "Really? What am I doing wrong, Agent I Button My Suit?" He licks some forgotten milk foam off the rim of his empty cup, almost delicately. His late-afternoon stubble is prominent, and the golden lamps of the place make it glint like amber.

Lincoln stares at his face for just a second too long, then glances at her and back at Lee. "You may be a hotshot agent over there, but here, you're just a visitor. Who should treat the agents in charge with respect."

Lee leans back, loose and sprawling across his seat on the bench. One arm is, of course, slung over the back. His thumb would touch Astrid's left shoulder if he moved his hand just so. "Not you, then." He focuses on her again, addresses her earnestly. "I do apologise, though, for being glib with you. Just because my world does things a little differently doesn't mean I get to be less than professional by your standards."

She honestly doesn't have the slightest problem with Lee, detecting no malice in his jibes with whom he naturally supposes he's on a level playing field with, but she feels a pang at her own Lincoln's tense expression. He's been through quite a bit, and not just since his partner died and his world up-ended in more than one one way. That said, she can't flat-out tell Lee to play nice with Lincoln; the latter would take umbrage at that. But she can do something, maybe. "You're both right; it's not just a difference in points of view but, well, _worlds_. We can't change who we are." She gives Lee the sternest look she can muster and Lincoln a smile. "But, we can adjust."

"I'd like that," Lee says, and his voice is softer than she's heard so far. "I'm willing to play by your rules."

"Astrid's only, huh?" Lincoln's voice is pitched low, but no one at the table would mistake it for softness. Astrid has seen his case-file; he may seem mild-mannered, but the man packs a punch, physical marks and marksmanship at peak levels, with a track record reflecting that.

"Jesus, man," Lee huffs out, incredulous, genuinely enquiring, "what _happened_ that made you so toppy?" Into the stunned silence, he adds, sincerely, "Yes, I'll defer to you as well. I got it, I can give it up easy enough; it's all good."

She looks at Lincoln, Lincoln stares back at her, wide-eyed...but speculative too. Oh, no. They can't really be talking --

Except, deep down, she hopes they are; she's _thrilled_ , breathless even here and now.

"You know," Lincoln says, conversationally, "I think you're right; Astrid should call the shots. She's the most senior Fringe agent here on this side, after all. But I'm also willing to contribute to...all our well-being. It's only fair."

Astrid finds herself nodding, hopefully not too enthusiastically.

Lee grins at them both, boyish and knowing. "By offering the good stuff at home, I assume? Given the fact this is only a café and we still have four hours to kill until I return."

Lincoln pushes his glasses back, eyes unfocused. "I don't drink, myself. But yes, I did bring the content of my guest bar when I moved here last week, into an apartment nearby." He frowns. It's adorable. "I haven't unpacked everything yet."

"As if I had." Lee looks sympathetic, genuinely so. "There's still a big cardboard box in my closet that says _Bathroom_ , only I'm not missing anything."

"Your razor?" Lincoln says it sardonically, but his eyes are smiling, now.

"No one's ever complained." Definitely wicked.

"That's just due to your superficial charms."

"Hey, what's underneath is just as charming. As you well know."

Astrid giggles, and they both swing to look at her. It's almost hilarious to see their matching expressions of concern. She waves at them, laughs. "Never mind, carry on. Although," she swallows, but she's been a field agent for almost three years now, and surely this can't be any worse than mutants, monsters, and shapeshifters, "we can of course all carry on at Lincoln's place."

::

There, on the bed, the sofa, and a box or two, it's not even too confusing, because whatever else went very, very differently, Lincoln and Lee are still almost in-sync on the most basic, the physical level. With each other, it's a little different; Lee didn't lie in the café, and he goes down to his knees willingly, leaving hers a little unsteady too. But when Astrid kisses the silvery scar running down the side of Lee's belly from whatever a _Class 4 Vortex_ is, he shivers, and his eyes flutter shut; when she breathes in her Lincoln's warmth and runs her fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, he does exactly the same. They're curious too, both of them; their hands are gentle, though, not just on her but also each other where it counts -- and gleeful as well: Astrid had fully expected Lee to be fun in bed, but she hadn't thought Lincoln would smile, smile at her like this, radiant and as close to happy as it gets.

They don't have the luxury of falling asleep together, but there is some dozing, at least, at last: Lincoln's mouth warm against her right clavicle, and Lee's left hand resting tiredly, possessively on the curve of her stomach.

As object lessons go, Astrid ponders drowsily, this one probably fits better into the category of loving your neighbour as much as yourself.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for, you've guessed it, the kinkmeme. Also, hey, if you reading this are a writer? Help me populate that tag (you know which one :).


End file.
